


Spit the Dark

by carleton97



Category: Darkness Falls
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-20
Updated: 2010-09-20
Packaged: 2017-10-13 04:13:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/132701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carleton97/pseuds/carleton97
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So, now he's got a decade's worth of anti-psychotics whizzing through his system, but even that can't stop the constant, tiny voice in the back of his head whispering <em>sanesanesanesane</em>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spit the Dark

They're in Caitlin's car, almost to the edge of town when she says, "Wait," and, "We have to go back."

It's two hours to dawn and Kyle's running on reserves; his only thoughts are to get out, get away, get safe. He can _see_ the sign marking the city limits and it physically pains him to turn the car around and head back towards the center of town, but Caitlin's right. They've got to make it look a little less like he flipped out, tore a bunch of shit up, and killed a handful of people.

Even though he knows it has to be done, he's not quite sure how he feels about how quickly she's able to make things look like he was just in town visiting old friends. In under an hour she's collected all of his belongings, packed bags for herself and Michael, established alibis for all of them at the hospital, and convinced the lone deputy left alive that he had nothing to do with all the crazy shit and had been, in fact, released from his wrongful imprisonment shortly before the Sheriff met his untimely demise. He can't decide if he's thankful or frightened by her efficiency and attention to detail, but ends up firmly on the 'thankful' side of the fence when his arrest is wiped off the books and they're back in the car speeding towards his little apartment in Atlantic City.

Michael falls asleep as soon as the sun is more than just a distant glow on the horizon and Caitlin isn't far behind him. Neither one is resting especially peacefully, but Kyle thinks maybe someday that will change for all of them. It's a strangely optimistic thought for him, but underneath his shock and exhaustion, there's a bright, foreign giddiness bubbling in his chest that he thinks might be hope. Hope that the future holds something more for him than an unending parade of meds and sleeping with the lights on against his shrink's advice.

He's shocked that, without even realizing it, sometime in the past dozen years, he'd started to believe the doctors. He'd started to believe that he'd had a psychotic break. That he was the only one who could have killed his mom. That he'd used the legend of the old lady and her murder to cover up his own horror at what he'd done.

He'd started to believe he was crazy.

So now he's got a decade's worth of anti-psychotics whizzing through his system, but even that can't stop the constant, tiny voice in the back of his head whispering _sanesanesanesane_. For once, that voice is a comfort, intensifying the warmth in his chest rather than sending him groping for his meds in a panic, but he pushes it back all the same. He's too tired, too scattered to give it the attention it deserves.

For now, it's enough that it's there and it's _right_.

He catches a glimpse of himself the rearview mirror and has to laugh at the enormous grin on his face despite the dirt and bruises. He's never had much of a plan for his future, but he can't help building castles in the sky right now. He's way too keyed up and shaken to do any sort of critical thinking, but he's got just enough brainpower left to start imagining the future. He knows they need a real plan, of course, but he's exhausted and his body is starting to make it known exactly how unhappy it is about last night's insanity. Besides, he can't really decide anything without Caitlin and Michael's input.

Well, he's pretty sure none of them are ever going to spend the night in Darkness Falls again, but beyond that he's sort of at a loss as to what they want.

What _he_ wants is to keep them both close, to surround himself with the only people he cares about. The only people who _know_ what it's like to have every light burning while you sleep. Who know exactly why he chooses to work nights at the casino. Who understand why he spent most of his adolescence hospitalized. Having them stay with him -- forever -- would be beyond anything he's wished for himself since he was twelve and started believing there was something broken in him.

But he doesn't want to presume.

It's midmorning by the time he pulls into his parking spot and when he reaches over to nudge Caitlin awake, he's suddenly glad his neighbors work during the day. They all look like they've been dragged backwards through a warzone. Each of them is covered in cuts and bruises and Caitlin still has tiny shards of glass stuck in her hair. Kyle knows he must reek of gasoline, but he can't even smell it anymore. He's sort of surprised he didn't asphyxiate them all on the drive, but he'd had the window open to keep himself awake. As it is, now that they've stopped he's starting to get a little dizzy from the fumes and exhaustion, so he's glad when Caitlin wakes without him having to do more than brush against her arm.

She seems confused and panicky until she catches sight of Kyle next to her and Michael snoring behind them. She slumps back into the seat, wincing when her back hits the firm seat. "We're here?"

Kyle nods. "I'll get Michael if you can get the bags."

She gives him a tired nod and pushes herself out of the car, stumbling a little once she's on her feet. Kyle heaves himself out of his own seat and stretches as best he can without setting off a million tiny points of pain before reaching into the backseat to pick up Michael. It takes a little maneuvering to be able to carry him without aggravating any of either of their injuries, but Kyle must manage somehow since he doesn't even wake up during the process.

They shuffle through the door to his place and his shabby little apartment has never felt more like home to Kyle. Caitlin dumps their bags just inside the door and moves in close to rest her hand on the back of Michael's neck. "I'm just going to let him sleep. If you have bedding, we can put him on the couch."

"Yeah, it's in the closet next to the bathroom." Kyle sort of gestures with his shoulder, leaning back against the wall and staring sightlessly as Caitlin makes up the small couch. She helps him settle Michael onto the makeshift bed before they both slump down onto his barstools.

His body has been twinging and generally making its unhappiness known for the past couple of hours and now that he's no longer in danger of dying in horrible, messy ways, the pain doesn't so much creep up on him as jump out and hit him with baseball bat. His ribs are bruised for sure, maybe cracked in a couple of places, he's got cuts peppering his hands and face, his arm is burned all to hell and he's pretty sure he strained a couple of muscles in his back.

Plus, he really does smell like gasoline.

Kyle groans when he tries to shift on the hard seat. "I need a shower. And some Bactine. And probably an ace bandage."

"God, me too."

Kyle spends a long, awkward minute desperately trying not to imagine Caitlin naked in his shower and is so intent on replacing the picture with an image of his shrink naked that he doesn't notice her sliding into his personal space. He definitely notices it when she rests her hand on his shoulder and leans up to press a careful kiss against his mouth.

He can feel his eyes widen like a cartoon character's before he gets with the program and slides his hands over her hips to pull her closer. They're both beat all to hell and if she feels half as crappy as he does then Caitlin must be wishing for industrial strength Advil. Kyle closes his eyes and moves with her as she shifts closer. It's warm and close and more intimate than he expected, but it's exactly what he needs to settle the last of his shaking. He leans back a little and catches an especially sore spot on the edge of the counter. He can't help the pained noise he makes and she sighs against his mouth, kissing him one last time before pulling back.

"We should get cleaned up."

Kyle has a blinding vision of getting cleaned up _together_ before sanity reasserts itself in the form of a tiny snore from Michael. "Why don't you go first? I'm sure I've got something clean around here you can wear after."

Caitlin collects the offered clothes and slips into his bathroom. Kyle looks longingly at the section of couch not taken up by Michael, but he knows if he sits down, he's never going to get up again. Michael moves restlessly in his sleep and Kyle pets at his hair until he quiets again. Kyle smiles, but immediately feels guilty. Sure, they'd gotten rid of the creature that killed his mother and had tortured him for most of his life, but Caitlin and Michael are _here_ , in his life and it's more than he feels like he deserves. They have lives in Darkness Falls, even if it feels like half the town died last night. He really can't expect her to uproot everything just because he's suddenly sane.

He knows he's not making much sense, even in his head, but he's just having a bit of a problem making everything line up. It's sort of life changing, not being crazy.

The bathroom door opens and Caitlin comes out in a cloud of steam. She's wearing a pair of panties, but holding a towel up to her chest instead of wearing the shirt he'd given her. "There are some cuts on my back I can't reach. Can you take care of them once you're showered?"

Kyle nods and skirts past her into the bathroom, torn between giddiness that Caitlin is half-naked in his living room and the scrambled thoughts he's been trying to work through. He showers on autopilot, gingerly washing the cuts and bruises and scrapes he's managed to collect in the past couple of days. The hot water relaxes him a little, but he's still tense when he turns the shower off, this corner of the bathroom always too dim for his peace of mind. He knows he's probably never going to be comfortable in the dark, but a giant weight is gone and he feels like maybe had actually has a future now.

He pulls on a clean pair of boxers and carefully blots the rest of the water out of his hair. He collects the scattered bits of his first aid kit from the bathroom counter and takes a deep breath before opening the door and heading out to Caitlin and Michael.

She's sitting on the arm of the couch, gently rubbing at Michael's shoulders, the towel tucked securely under her arms. She's staring blankly at the far wall and starts when he clears his throat.

"Feel better?"

Kyle can't help but smile. "God, yes."

She smiles back and gingerly levers herself off her perch, moving to sit on the edge of his bed. "I think the light is best over here."

Kyle suppresses the instinctive _wantwantwant_ that echoes through him at the sight of her on his bed and sits next to her, spreading the array of gauze and antiseptic out behind them. "Tell me if it hurts."

Caitlin makes an agreeing noise and turns so he can get at her back. Her skin is a patchwork of bruises and scrapes, so he has to be careful as he cleans each one, being as gentle as he knows how even though his hands feel too big and clumsy to be touching her. He dresses the three deepest cuts with gauze and tape and, when he's done, he dares to lean forward and drop a quick kiss on the curve of her shoulder.

When she shivers and turns to face him, he's convinced he misread her earlier kiss. Convinced she meant something different -- probably some mixture of relief and gratitude -- than he did, but the soft hand cupping the bruised side of his face banishes his uneasiness.

"You got pretty beat up in the lighthouse. Can I take a look at your back?"

Kyle feels like he's been worked over by a particularly vicious sledgehammer, so he's glad to agree even if he's a little unsure about how he's going to react to that much touch. He doesn't like to add any additional fuel to the crazy fire, but he knows he hasn't had enough non-clinical, affectionate human contact since his mom died. He's not an innocent, but insisting on sleeping with every light on and never venturing out at night doesn't exactly make for an active social life. And he's pretty sure spending the lion's share of his adolescence in a psychiatric hospital gave him a skewed idea of appropriate personal space.

She rubs her thumb over the thin skin under his eye before dropping her hand and pulling her borrowed t-shirt on over her head. She keeps the towel tucked under her arms until the shirt is over her chest, but Kyle still catches a glimpse of the curve of her breast before she's fully covered.

He can't help the way his leg spasms, knocking into the side of her thigh.

"Are you okay?" Caitlin's voice is innocent, but Kyle thinks maybe that wasn't quite an accident.

"I'm fine." He clears his throat to get rid of the squeak. "My turn?"

He turns at the gentle pressure of her hand on his shoulder and his head drops forward at the first careful touch of her fingers. The antiseptic stings the mess of raw skin he's managed to collect in the past couple of days, but Caitlin works quickly and is careful not to press too hard on any of the incipient bruising.

She finishes taping gauze over the burn on his arm, but doesn't stop touching him. She runs her fingers over the unmarked patches of skin on his back and shoulders, but doesn’t seem to be trying to elicit any particular response from him. It's almost as if she's learning the texture of his skin, testing how he reacts to each touch.

Caitlin pushes her face into the curve of his neck and makes a soft noise he almost can't hear over the beat of his heart. She shifts around him and climbs onto his lap, sliding her hands into his hair and combing through the damp curls. His hands hang in the air for a second before settling on her hips and squeezing a little.

She's so _soft_ and she smells like the Irish Spring he has in his shower. She's everything he's wanted since he was twelve, so it's easy to tip his head back and meet her mouth with his own. He breathes quiet noises against her skin, very aware that Michael is snoring on the other side of the room divider.

He tips her sideways off his lap onto the bed, twisting around to follow her and keep kissing as she scoots herself back towards the pillows. He settles his weight on her as carefully as he can, but pushes back up to his hands and knees at her pained noise. "Sorry, sorry."

"Here, let me -- " Caitlin sits up under him and pushes at his shoulders until he settles on his back and she slides on top of him. "Is this okay?"

His ribs still hurt and the slightly rough surface of his blankets irritates the burn on his arm, but Kyle nods. "It's great. You're fine."

Caitlin grins and leans down to smack a happy kiss on to the side of his face before her smile softens into something infinitely warmer. She leans forward again and Kyle cranes his neck to meet her.

It's easy -- easier than it's ever been -- to simply close his eyes and _feel_. Caitlin is a solid weight over his hips and thighs, shifting just enough to tease him. Her hands are spots of warmth on his jaw and on the side of his neck. Her mouth is hot and wet against his, the edges of her teeth a sharp conterpoint to lushness of her kiss.

Kyle let his hands sneak under the hem of her shirt, the soft fabric pooling around his wrists as the tips of his fingers brush the skin above her underwear. She shivers once, hard, before sitting back and pulling her shirt off. She doesn't even bother to untangle it from her wrist before she's falling forward, pressing the length of her body against his.

The feeling of her pressed against him is enough to make Kyle wish he could wrap his arms around her, to hold her tight and close until the aching _want_ of it passes. Neither one of them is in good enough shape for that, though, so he contents himself with petting the skin stretched over her ribs and nudging his hips up against hers.

She makes a wanting little noise against his neck and grinds down against him before shoving her hands between them to paw at the waistband of his boxers. He lifts his hips to help her push them down and they both give up before they even get to his knees. Caitlin kisses him, panting a little when she pulls back just enough to lick her lips. She rocks her hips against his again and whispers, "Just like this, okay?"

Kyle nods and pulls her back down into another kiss. Just like this was fine with him since he's pretty sure the closest thing he has to a condom in the whole apartment is a sandwich baggie in the pantry and he was too tired for anything more strenuous. Caitlin exhales against his mouth and starts moving carefully over him. It's not much more than a slow, rhythmic grind, but it's more than enough to have Kyle gritting his teeth against the noises that want to come out.

He manages to bite back everything but the quietest of whimpers, but even that is loud enough to catch Caitlin's attention and she says, "Hush now," before sliding the tips of three of her fingers into his mouth. Her free hand is twisted in the sheets next to his head and his are all over her hips and ass and oh-so carefully tracing up her back. The t-shirt still twisted around her wrist is a lump of fabric in the periphery of his vision and the thought of using it to flip her onto her back and hold her still for him is enough to push him over the edge.

It's like going _blind_ when he comes and she's still moving against him when he blinks back to himself, so he shoves his hand into her panties to help her get off. He barely touches her before she gasps against his shoulder and grinds down onto his hand, shaking her way through an orgasm. The pressure is almost too much, but he slides his other hand down to her ass to keep her moving against him, only stopping when she has to press her face against his neck to stifle the noises trying to escape from her throat.

He pulls his hand out of her panties and she collapses against him. Despite the exhaustion he can feel dragging at him, his mind is alive with all the things he wants to do to -- with -- her when he little brother isn't sleeping on the other side of a flimsy barrier. They're both shaking, but he manages to get Caitlin's shirt back over her head with minimal cooperation from her and he uses his boxers to mop up the mess on his stomach. He pulls a pair of sweatpants from the laundry basket next to the bed and slides them on before tossing the stained boxers into his closet to deal with later.

He's pretty sure they're both covered, and that's going to have to be good enough because Kyle is done. He finally lets himself drop off, not even caring Caitlin is still mostly on top of him.

When he jerks awake like he always does a couple of hours after falling asleep, he realizes that maybe he'll be ok because he didn't wake up when Caitlin shifted to his side and he didn't wake up when Michael joined them on the bed. He tucks Caitlin closer into the curve of his body and rests his hand on Michael's back, closing his eyes and falling back into the close darkness of sleep.


End file.
